


Lost Cause

by Smokeycut



Category: Batman - Fandom
Genre: Coping, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 03:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12572456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smokeycut/pseuds/Smokeycut
Summary: Cassandra nearly goes too far in a fight, and when she falls apart, Harper is there to pick her back up.





	Lost Cause

Her hands stung.

Riddler and his men were unconscious at her feet, their plan to rob an armored truck foiled before it even began. Oracle hadn't told her that there would be metahuman muscle, but she still won the fight. Just a little tougher than expected.

Her hands stung.

When her fist had connected with his neck in just the right spot, the metahuman crumpled to the ground, barely breathing. Key word being _barely_. For a fraction of a second, she worried she had finally gone too far. That she had killed him. Broken her vow and and taken another life. The shallow breaths eased her panicking heart, but it didn't put her racing mind to rest. Too many thoughts and fears but not enough words in her to explain them. 

Her hands stung.

Oracle told her that Batman was en route to her location, that he would collect evidence for the police. Batgirl knew she would have a few minutes alone then. Time to be with herself and her thoughts.

Her hands stung.

It happens when you punch a stone wall as hard as you can, as many times as you can. The skin breaks. The blood smears. She feels hot and cold at the same time, but her tears are the hottest. They blur her vision beneath the skintight mask.

Her hands stung.

It was an easy way to shut her mind up when it was too busy. It quieted her head, calmed her down, and nobody got hurt. Nobody important, she thought. Just her. Just Batgirl. Just Cassandra Wayne. Just a murderer.

Her hands stung.

She left the moment she saw her father's shadow touch down outside. She had a hard time looking people in the eye after she hurt herself like that. It was better to see them again later, after she had stopped crying. It was easier that way. Usually she just watched the city streets from a lonely rooftop before going home. But her heart pulled her somewhere else.

Her hands stung.

Harper was in her apartment, standing in front of the stove with a ladle in hand. Cassandra could smell the beef stew from the window, and she heard her stomach growl at her. She remembered that she hadn't eaten since that morning. Harper never minded sharing food with her, and she never minded a random visit from her girlfriend. She always called them "midnight dates", even if they happened at 6pm.

Her hands stung.

She slipped in through the window. Harper turned to look just as Cassandra peeled off her mask. She looked up at Harper from across the room and pushed her messy hair out of her eyes.

"Want me to give you a haircut tonight?" Harper asked, noting how long Cassandra's hair had gotten. She knew Cassandra didn't like the way her hair looked when it was long. Cassandra nodded her head and pulled the window shut behind her. She looked at her bloody knuckles when the window clicked shut.

Her hands stung.

Harper poured two bowls of stew, and set them on opposite ends of the kitchen table. She watched with a gentle smile as Cassandra stripped off pieces of her costume, until she was just wearing the shirt and pants of it. 

"Cullen is at his boyfriend's house for dinner, so it's just us tonight," Harper told her. Cassandra nodded in understanding and made her way to the table, then took a seat in front of one of the bowls and started eating. Between bites, she used the sides of the bowl to warm her hands. Harper noticed the torn skin quickly.

"Are you okay, Cassie?" 

Her hands stung.

"Fine," she lies. "Just cold."

"Do you want me to bandage your hands up?" Harper asked, her voice softer this time.

"I'm fine." There was a sharpness in Cassandra's voice, and it cut Harper deep. She knew something was going on inside of Cassandra and she only wanted to heal the wound. She reached across the table and touched Cassandra's fingers gently, oh so gently.

"You don't have to tell me what happened. Just let me help. Please?"

Cassandra didn't react at first. She didn't even look at Harper. Her eyes were glued to the bowl of stew, watching the steam rise off of it and warm her face. After a few moments of stillness between them, she nodded her head. 

Her hands stung.

After they had had their fill, Harper led Cassandra to the living room, and sat her down on the couch. She brought her a pair of pajama pants and a flannel shirt from the bedroom, and went about putting the leftovers away while Cassandra changed. The clothes were soft, warm. Comforting, just like the girl who they belonged to. Cassandra didn't think she deserved that love. Harper knew better.

Her hands stung.

Harper pulled out a first aid kit, and when she dabbed at the cuts with antiseptic, Cassandra didn't so much as hiss. Harper knew she wouldn't, but she wished she would. She knew why Cassandra never responded to pain, and that was reason enough to wish that she would, just this once.

Her hands stung.

Harper wrapped them in gauze and held her hands when she was done, kneeling in front of Cassandra and offering her a gentle smile. Hair hung in front of Cassandra's face, hiding the tears that were welling up in her eyes. The slight whimper she made gave it away, however, and Harper reacted in a way that still seemed foreign to Cassandra. She kissed the bandaged knuckles softly, over and over and over again.

"How about that haircut?" Harper asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but encouraging all the same. Cassandra nodded weakly.

Her hands stung.

The scissors were quiet, but with no other sounds in the apartment, they were practically deafening. Each snip wormed it's way into Cassandra's ears, and each lock of hair that fell onto her shoulders or lap, or down her back, tickled her skin in the most distracting way. She knew she didn't have to worry about how it would look though. Harper knew how she liked it. 

Harper did what she could to make Cassandra feel at ease. She gently caressed Cassandra's shoulders, humming a slow tune as she cut her girlfriend's hair back to it's standard bob. When she had finished, and hair littered the floor, she showed Cassandra the result in a hand mirror. Cassandra bit the inside of her cheek and studied her reflection, unsure of how to feel.

Her hands stung.

"Shorter?" She asked tentatively. Her voice was hoarse, and Harper could see how tired she was. 

"How short?" Harper asked in turn. "Pixie cut?" She remembered her wanting it that short once before, but had thought Cassandra didn't like it as much.

Cassandra shook her head no. "Shorter."

"Sure, Cassie," Harper told her, placing a kiss in the crook of her neck. Cassandra turned into it, and nuzzled Harper's face briefly, before Harper picked up the clippers.

Her hands stung.

When she looked in the mirror again, she saw her own reflection, with Harper's anxious expression behind her. She could see that Harper was worried she had taken off too much. Cassandra smiled weakly and blinked away the tears that had begun to well up once more.

"Good. It's good," Cassandra said, and Harper could tell it was the truth. Harper kissed her on top of her head, her lips brushing against the short bristles that remained after the shave. 

"Good," Harper whispered. She circled around in front of Cassandra, knelt down, and kissed her bandaged hands softly. "Come to bed?"

Cassandra nodded her head, and as Harper led her to the bedroom, she leaned in to the taller girl's welcoming arms. When they had curled up under the covers, Cassandra laid her head against Harper's chest and kissed her softly there. She felt more at ease then, with Harper's arms wrapped around her. Like a ship that was finally docked after braving a terrible storm.

Her hands didn't sting anymore.


End file.
